Brushfire Plague: Reckoning

by R. P. Ruggiero

  “Time to get up,” Angela yelled into the room.

  He jerked his head around, glaring at the intrusion. She startled.

  “You said to wake you in two hours,” she protested. He nodded gravely at her, his eyes dropping in defeat. He turned back toward Jake.

  His eyes fluttered open. Cooper’s heart broke watching him transition from the boy, peaceful in sleep, but growing stiff as he stumbled toward alertness. Cooper watched the transformation with growing despair. Jake’s lips drew tight. His jaw muscles tensed. His eyes reduced themselves to narrow slits. His breath grew shallow. In seconds, it was complete.

  “You ready to go?” Jake asked. His voice was flat, but it cut Cooper’s insides to ribbons. In vain, he brushed a lock of hair from Jake’s forehead. Jake’s face remained hard as he shook his head to free himself from his father’s touch. Cooper grunted, sat up, turned away, and his feet fell heavily to the floor. They sounded like weights being clattered to the floor by an exhausted weight lifter.

  **********

  Cooper and Jake stood in the living room, equipped and ready to go.

  “We’re going to survey a few houses I saw as we were coming in. We’ll see what we can find. I’m hoping fuel. We can never have too much of that.”

  Dranko nodded, “You know where the siphon is, right?”

  “Yup. I’ll fuel our vehicles with one of our five gallon cans and see if we can refill it. I’m sure we burned at least that much in our slow going so far. We’ll move back to the west, no more than a mile. We’ll have our radio. Call us if anything happens back here.”

  “You do the same,” Dranko responded.

  He turned to Jake, “You ready?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, “Got nothing else better to do.”

  After refueling the vehicles and finding the siphon, they were walking down the driveway toward the main road. Cooper had his rifle at the ready, while Jake carried the jerry can. His Ruger .22 rifle was slung across his shoulder.

  Cooper noticed the deep silence all around them. In Portland, the clamor of city life had declined enormously within a few days of the plague’s outbreak. Still, the noise from vehicles of various kinds and generators could be heard at most times. Here, the stillness was pervasive. It reminded him of times he’d been in the forest hunting. Things were so quiet he heard not only the calls and whistles of birds, but the buzzing of insects flittering about, as well. He drank it in as their footfalls thumped along the asphalt road. He and his son walked like this for several minutes.

  They came to the first house. It was a white mobile home, the joints stained by rust. An old pickup truck was parked in the driveway, its left front tire flat. Cooper hoped the vehicle has some fuel inside it. He further hoped that the place was deserted.

  “I’m going to approach the place, slowly. You cover me from…”

  Cooper hadn’t finished his sentence when the metal can clattered to the ground and fell onto its side in the dirt next to the road. Jake had taken off at a full run toward the mobile home, unslinging his rifle as he did so.

  He stifled his urge to call after him, fearing that it could alert anyone who might be residing there. Instead, he ran after him, keeping his rifle at the ready. Inside, he cursed his son’s recklessness. Within seconds, Jake arrived at the door to the home. Cooper scanned the windows in a frenzy, looking for any sign of movement.

  His heart leapt into his throat when Jake reached the door, yanked it open, and disappeared into the dark inside.

  “Damn,” he cursed and strained to run faster.

  He crashed into the doorjamb and ran his eyes over the interior, while flipping his flashlight on. It revealed a living room with a rundown couch, a brown leather easy chair, and a wooden coffee table. A huge flat screen television dominated the room, made larger by the small room it occupied. He heard Jake slamming doors open down a hallway to the left, presumably where the bedrooms were. Cooper crossed the room and looked into an empty kitchen, with dishes and containers scattered across the yellow Formica countertop. He ripped the curtain off its rod and peered out into the backyard. It looked similarly deserted.

  Satisfied, he returned his attention back to the living room, just as Jake sauntered back in. He wore a wide, cocky grin. Cooper’s face flushed red and he closed the gap between them in giant strides.

  His open backhand slammed across Jake’s left cheek. “What the hell were you doing?” He yelled, as spittle flew from his lips.

  Jake fell to one knee, and Cooper did not know if it was from shock or the force of his blow. His cheek glowed red and bitter tears cascaded down his face.

  The blow had sapped his rage. He’d never struck his son before. Remorse raced in to fill the empty space. He dropped to one knee, so he could look Jake in the eye.

  “Why did you do that, son?”

  He struggled to find breath in between his sobs, “I…didn’t…want…to be…afraid.”

  “You coulda been killed!”

  Jake’s eyes went cold, “So?” Cooper recoiled in horror, his eyes going wide. His rifle fell from his grasp and bounced on the floor, its metallic ring filling the room. He grabbed Jake’s cheeks with both hands.

  “What do you mean? So?” His face pleaded along with his words.

  Jake’s eyes fell to the ground. “I mean. I mean,” he stumbled as he looked back up to his father. “I’m going to die, dad. Everyone’s dying. What does it matter when?”

  Cooper’s eyes stung and his heart joined his rifle, lying on the floor, “Oh my Lord, Jake. You just can’t think like that.”

  Jake’s response was cold, unyielding, “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t true. You survived the plague.”

  “Brushfire didn’t kill that boy back there. That boy with the Pez dispenser. It was bullets, dad. Bullets!”

  Cooper’s hands fell to his son’s shoulders and he shook them, “That boy didn’t have me at his side. Or, Dranko or Calvin. There are a lot of people here to protect you. Don’t you see that?” He pleaded.

  Jake paused, thinking. “Dad, I’m just tired of being scared. And, I don’t know what I’m living for. The world is gone. It’s gone,” his last words rising to a shrill scream. A new round of sobbing shook his small body.

  It was Cooper’s turn to think. “You live for your mama, son. You live for her. She’s in you. Yes, the world has been turned upside down. But, as long as you are alive, you live for her legacy, you hear me!”

  Jake’s eyes were impassive, his jaw set, “She’s dead.” His words dripped with a bitter finality that no eleven year old should ever know.

  Cooper’s heart felt like it was being sawn in two by a dull, rusted blade. It burned in pain. Tears piled down his face and he pulled Jake into a tight embrace, “Then, live for me, son. Live for me. I can’t lose you, too. Please.”

  The seconds ticked by as Cooper clutched to pull Jake in tighter still. His mind raced to find words that he could not. His breath came in ragged gasps, as desperate as his heart. He felt it before he heard it. It was a tension in Jake’s belly that moved up his chest and erupted in a long wail of despair and grief. Cooper felt as if the mobile home’s walls were shaking under its fury. Jake’s body rocked back and forth as the agony was unleashed. When it ended, Cooper’s ears rang in the silence.

  “I miss her,” Jake rasped in a silent whisper.

  “Me, too,” Cooper breathed into his son’s ear. “Me, too.”

  Minutes ticked by as they sat holding one another, both crying.

  Jake broke the embrace by drawing back, “I’ll try.”

  “Try what?”

  “To live. For her.” He paused, as a fresh round of sobs enveloped him. He squeezed his father even harder, “For you, too.”

  Cooper’s heart skipped a beat. He breathed it in. Then, he cupped his son’s chin with his right hand until their eyes met, “Thank you. Someday soon you will see that you can live for yourself, too. There will be a future worth living in, son.” Jake
’s unmoving face told him he didn’t believe him. Once again, he recalled words of wisdom from his own father. Sometimes you can’t get everything you want in one conversation. If you get halfway there, accept it. Wait for another day. With that, he fought his compulsion to argue with Jake about it.

  “I’m sorry son.”

  “I know, dad. The hitting. It hurt.”

  “I know. It won’t ever happen again.”

  “And, not just here,” Jake said pointing to his cheek. His hand fell to rest over his heart as fresh tears welled up. “Here.”

  Cooper felt a vice over his heart and his eyes offered remorse, “I promise never again. And, I ask for your forgiveness, son.”

  Jake simply nodded in response. Cooper saw tenderness in his son’s eyes that melted his heart. He grew wistful when he saw something else in those eyes that he had not seen in a long time. The sympathy held in Jake’s eyes was reminiscent of the forgiveness he’d often see in Elena’s eyes after he had wronged her in some way. God, do I miss her. He felt relief at pulling Jake back from a deadly precipice of despair. Worry clawed at him and chilled his insides. Can I keep him away from this edge with everything all around us is pushing him towards it?

  “You ready to get back to work?”

  “Yup,” Jake said, and a smile that Cooper would have sold his soul to the devil for crested across his face.

  Cooper returned it, “It’s good to see you smile, son.” Jake blushed, but the smile just grew wider.

  They quickly searched the mobile home, looking for items of use. It had been stripped of most things useful to a group on the move, but Jake found a forgotten box of 9mm pistol cartridges in the back of a dresser drawer. They moved outside, this time in tandem. Cooper went first and Jake covered him from the back door. After double-checking that no one was in the immediate area, he motioned for Jake to join him next to the disabled pickup truck.

  Cooper had to strike the gas tank’s lid with his rifle butt to get it moving. Freeing it, they found it able to easily fill their five gallon can.

  “We have to hope that the gas ain’t gone bad,” Cooper intoned as he fastened the lid onto the jerry can.

  “What do you mean? I thought gas lasted forever?”

  Cooper shook his head, “Nope. It only lasts for a year at most before becoming unusable in a car. Only if it’s treated with the right additives will it last longer.”

  Jake shrugged, “Weird.”

  “It does smell good and strong, so I think it will work,” Cooper said as he handed the can to Jake.

  Upon first grabbing it, his arms didn’t hold the weight and it fell to the ground. Cooper laughed, “Heavier now, isn’t it?”

  Jake laughed too, but steadied his feet and hefted it again, this time successfully.

  The cackle from the radio caught their attention, “Cooper, you there?” He recognized Dranko’s voice.

  “Yes. Here.”

  “You better get back here, fast.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s news on the ham radio. You aren’t going to like it.”

  The smiles faded from their faces. “On it. Back in ten.”

  “Let me carry the can so we can move faster. I need you on point, eyes sharp and your rifle ready to go.” Cooper couldn’t help but think about the absurdity of such an order being given to an eleven-year-old just a few weeks ago.

  Now, in a different world, Jake took it in stride, “Got it.” He handed the gas can to his father and unslung his rifle. He marched out ten yards before looking back to make sure he was following him. Cooper shook his head in disbelief and began following his son back to where the others were holed up.

  **********

  Everyone was gathered around Dranko’s portable ham radio in the kitchen, except Calvin, because he was on watch and Freddie, who was sleeping on the nearby couch.

  “They’re still talking about it,” Angela exclaimed just as soon as Cooper pushed open the door.

  “What?”

  “Just listen,” Dranko ordered.

  “…of Oregon and California are welcoming the aid, while the Governor of Washington is calling it, and I quote, ‘an unprecedented act of underhanded aggression at a time of perilous need.’

  Cooper shot Dranko a confused look. Dranko responded by motioning him to keep listening by extending his index finger and drawing small circles in the air with his hand.

  “…the President has said that our nation needs any assistance that can be lent and that his administration will ‘fully investigate’ the allegations that Chinese troops have accompanied the medical and police personnel.”

  “In other news related to the Brushfire Plague, the reports of reduced lethality have now been confirmed in all corners of the globe. Medical and scientific personnel report that the Brushfire Plague is now no more dangerous than the common flu to most people. Casualty figures have proven impossible to determine as many governments are either unable, or unwilling, to provide accurate figures. However, our statistical department has extrapolated the casualties from three cities on three continents and we estimate that close to 1.2 billion have died worldwide from the Brushfire Plague. The dead and those wounded from widespread violence in the wake of the disease is impossible to responsibly estimate. We now go to an interview with Doctor Zhao on the likely path of the Brushfire Plague in its new, less deadly, form…”

  Cooper and the others let loose a collective exhale. Angela’s hands went to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. Julianne collapsed into a chair and laid her head on folded arms, weeping. Lily remained stoic, merely shaking her head in disbelief. Dranko caught Cooper’s eye as he surveyed the room.

  “There’s worse.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “They are talking about you quite a bit.”

  “I bet. What are they saying?”

  “Just that you are a crazed liar. And, that every American should look for you and turn you in just the same. The one thing I can’t figure is that they say they have ‘reliable information’ that you are headed from Portland to southern Oregon. Your ultimate destination is for you to rejoin your extended family in the Sacramento area.”

  Cooper burst out laughing and slapped his leg, “Really? It worked! The goddamn chickenshit did it!”

  “What the hell are you talking about,” Dranko demanded.

  “When I didn’t put a bullet into Gus’ brain, I found another use for it. I told him to tell the authorities that I was going back home, to my family in Sacramento. That I could be protected and hidden there.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Angela asked.

  “Gus! I had Gus feed them that line, to try and throw them off our trail.”

  First, Dranko smiled, and then he chuckled, “You are a sly son of a bitch! I wouldn’t be surprised if we still get a visit out at my cabin, but this just might throw their main search efforts in the wrong direction.”

  Cooper’s laughter faded, “Well, thanks for raining on my parade! But, I misled Gus even there. I couldn’t trust that weasel, so I told him to tell the authorities I was heading to Sacramento and not the coast!”

  “The coast? Nice, that’s the opposite direction of here. So, you covered yourself on both sides of the misdirection,” Dranko finished, pride creeping into his voice.

  “Yup!” Cooper returned.

  “Ssshh,” Lily beckoned their attention by pointing to the ham radio.

  “…the Russian government is calling for ‘retribution and justice’ for the ‘gravest sins committed by the Americans that can only be said to be worse than what the Nazis did in the Great Patriotic War’. They are demanding that an international community tribunal agree to surgical nuclear strikes against select U.S. cities. It is threatening unilateral action in the absence of such an agreement. Our President has promised swift retaliation for any such attack. Meanwhile, governments of twenty-seven other nations are calling upon the United Nations to investigate whether the release of the Brushfire Plague was t
he act of a small group of madmen or whether the United States government was complicit or had foreknowledge of the plan.”

  Cooper rubbed his temples, “My God. I opened a Pandora’s box, didn’t I? What have I done?”

  Silence from around the table confirmed his fears. A chill ran down his spine. Angela circled the table to come to his side. She put her arm around him.

  “You only did what you thought best, at the time you did it. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Cooper thought for a moment and then looked at her, “Really? Would you say the same thing to Julianne?”

  “That’s different!” Her eyes were sharp, angry. Julianne looked up tentatively, while keeping her head resting on her arms.

  “Is it? She did what she thought best given the information she had at the time she did it.”

  Angela thrust her hands into the air, “Christ, Cooper! Why do you defend her so?”

  “It’s not about her, it is just logic. If the Brushfire’s blood is on her hands then…”

  Lily’s soft voice cut him off, “He’s right. If that blood is on her hands, then any blood spilled because of Cooper telling the world the truth is on his hands. Or, their hands are both washed clean by the cleansing power of forgiveness.”

  “You’re both impossible!” Angela fumed as she strode out of the kitchen.

  Cooper saw the expectant look on Julianne’s eyes, “Don’t look to me. I think we’re both guilty as sin for what we done. Good intentions don’t change a damned thing.”

  The hope faded from her face, as quickly as it had sprouted, “You’re right,” she mumbled. She rose slowly from the table and almost stumbled out the back door into the yard. Cooper reasoned she did not want to take the same path as Angela and risk meeting up with her.